Surreality
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: Post-ep fic for EitB. Spoilers through all seasons. It can stand as a one-shot, but I'm writing this to dip my big toe into writing some more *ahem* mature content *ahem* later. And big thanks to Jellybean and Seattle for their ever-awesome help.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Surreality  
Author: **CSIGeekFan  
**Rating: ** Teen  
**Disclaimer:** Fox, et al owns Bones. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little enjoyment.  
**Beta:** Thanks to my wonderful friend SeattleCSIFan for the quick beta. It's really appreciated.  
**Spoilers:** Through Season 4

**X X X**

"I'm really confused."

Silence ensued after Booth's statement, as the agent sat morosely on the couch. Cam would've just told him to stop pouting, but not Sweets. Instead, the psychologist asked, "Can you clarify for me, Agent Booth? Maybe explain what you are finding so confusing?"

_No, I don't wanna,_ Booth thought. _Why do I have to keep explaining?_

He might've remained absolutely silent had Bones not laid her hand on his knee and ducked her head to his level. So Booth couldn't just ignore what he'd said and sink into the floor.

"Booth?" she asked, her voice low and husky. "You don't have to answer."

He had no doubt she was probably shooting daggers at Sweets. Unfortunately, he was finding it hard to meet either's gaze at the moment. It just bugged him that his boss, FBI Deputy Director Sam Cullen, required a sign-off by the in-house shrink before being allowed back on the job. Sure, he'd had brain surgery, Booth mused, but it didn't mean he'd lost his mind.

Sighing in resignation, he looked gave Bones a small smile and said, "It's not like I have a choice. And Sweets picks up when I'm feeding him a line." Smiling a little wider, he lowered his voice for her only and conspiratorially whispered, "Most of the time."

At her light chuckle, he leaned back into the couch and turned his head to Sweets. "Sometimes I get confused between what I remember from the surgery and what I remember from real life."

"I imagine that must be a little surreal, considering you created a whole new reality in your mind," Sweets said, his voice sweetly friendly and commiserating. Booth really hated that tone. Even though he bit his tongue, it didn't stop him from frowning.

"Look, I know what's real and what's not," Booth said. "It's the emotions and expectations that are getting to me." Like the desire to bed his partner.

Feeling the tension crawl like a vise up his neck, Booth raised his hand when Sweets opened his mouth to speak. "Look, Sweets. I really appreciate it, but I want to change the subject."

The defunct agent found it funny that ever since he'd ended up in the hospital, the brilliant young psychologist had been treating him with kid gloves. Maybe he should've developed a brain tumor sooner.

"Then why don't we work on your partnership a little?" Sweets asked, although it wasn't really a question and Booth knew it. The kid had an annoying habit of doing that – asking a question, when it wasn't a question but a demand. Then he'd expect Booth and Bones to jump on his whim.

When neither of the partners answered, Sweets finally said, "Let's try a little word association."

Laughing, Booth said, "The last time we did that we ended up Bones wanting to… you know."

"Have a baby," Bones said. He didn't have to look to know she was rolling her eyes.

Wincing a little, Booth answered, "Yeah. And wanting my…" Okay, he still couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Your sperm. I requested your sperm. Which, I must say, performed better than even I could have expected," she stated. Was that a hint of pride in her voice?

"Well, let's see what happens now," Sweets stated. "Booth, why don't you start?"

Blowing out a breath, he said, "Work."

"Partners."

"Friends," Booth said.

"That's what you think of?" Bones asked, smiling.

"Well, yeah. We're friends, aren't we?" he asked, glad to see the smile bloom on her face. It had been awhile since he'd really seen that expression – lately, she'd been so pensive and distracted. Primarily because of him.

"Of course, we're friends," she briskly stated. Playful concentration moved on her face and she said, "The lab."

"Night club," Booth replied, and then sighed at his own words. "I mean, workplace."

"That's good, Booth," Sweets said. But before he could get anything else out, Bones interrupted.

"Book," Bones interjected, staring at him intently.

"Kathy," Booth shot back.

"Andy," she retorted.

"I want to have sex with you," Booth replied. Now where the hell had that come from?

"You want to have sex with me?"

"Oh God, yes," he breathed, earnestly.

Maybe he wasn't ready to go back into the field after all, because that filter between his brain and his mouth wasn't working so hot. Ever since that dream, when he'd inhaled her lush scent, and tasted the very feminine mouth, he'd been having little fantasies. Sometimes with the Brennan that ran the night club, but more and more frequently with his Bones.

Then she squeezed his knee again, bringing him back to reality. Darting a glance at Sweets, he noted the young psychologist's face had taken on the look of a fish – a gape-mouthed O forming half his features, while his eyes bulged.

It was _her_ response, though, that nearly did him in. Cringing in anticipation of something embarrassing, he watched her features, expecting her to offer to dress in those sexy stilettos and a lab coat.

He really hadn't expected her to smile or see her face flush pink.

Maybe the FBI better keep his gun locked up.

Because he never saw it coming when she just said, "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Surreality (Chapter 2)  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Disclaimer:** Bones is owned by Fox, et al. I just like playing with the characters for fun.  
**Author's Note:** Thanks to all you have left reviews. Feedback is appreciated (although not required). I hope you enjoy the next chapter…

**X X X**

"He said _what_?" Angela asked, her lips splitting into a grin as she squealed the last word.

"He wants to have sex with me," Bones replied from where she bent over the microscope. Absently, she marked down some notes in the file and finally stood up to stretch. Looking at Angela, she said, "I think we're going to find that these bones belong to a female in her early twenties."

"Who cares about the bones, sweetie," Angela interjected. "They've been dead a few hundred years. They can wait."

Mildly irritated and impatient, Bones snapped off the latex gloves, tossed them in the trash and stretched out her tired back muscles. She hated admitting it (especially to herself), but the older she got, the less she liked leaning over the bones all the time. It took her a moment to realize Angela had stopped talking.

That never bode well.

Studying her friend, Bones noted the facial features. Fairly straight line of the mouth, slight furrowing of the brow, eyes staring intently. Those combined usually meant someone was about to get a lecture.

Heaving a sigh, she walked from the platform knowing Angela would follow. When her artistic friend had something to say, she was like a dog with a humerus, and by the time Bones settled in behind her desk, Angela was outright frowning.

"You know, Brennan, sometimes I really think you need to join the human race – you know, show the world you're actually _mortal_," Angela stated, flouncing onto the couch. "A hot guy, who happens to be your friend, asks you to sleep with him and you say…"

"Ok," Bones quietly responded.

"That's right, you said –" Angela snapped her mouth shut and just stared at Bones, who stared back in fascination. The anthropologist had never seen Angela's eyes get so big. Or her face so red.

"Angela? Are you okay?" Bones asked. The concern started leaning toward worry, and Bones started to cross the room just in time to hear her friend's squeal.

"Oh. My. God. Oh-my-God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," Angela managed to scream. Then before she could even take a breath, she continued, "When are you going to – you know – do the horizontal Mambo, huh? Dish. Seriously, you can't just drop a bomb on me like that and not give details."

"Well," Bones said slowly, "Booth asked me to have sex with him and I agreed."

"When?" Angela demanded?

Exasperated, Bones tersely said, "In Sweets' office."

"No, no, no," Angela replied, springing up from her seat. "When are you going to have sex?"

"I'm not sure," Bones replied. She really wasn't. After the meeting, they'd gone their separate ways, although she'd offered to take him to lunch. At Sid's even. He loved Sid's. So she'd done the only logical, rational thing possible – she'd gone back to work.

"Well, sweetie," Angela murmured, placing a hand on Bones' shoulder. "Maybe you ought to go talk to him."

_Why wouldn't he go to lunch with me?_ Bones asked herself, self-doubt slowly creeping through her gut. Absently, she said, "Hey Ang, I'm going to take off for the day." And go see Booth.

**X X X**

"She said _what_?" Hodgins asked, his face a study of amused surprise.

"She said she'd have sex with me," Booth lamented.

"Let me see if I have this right." Hodgins sat back; his grin growing wide. "You were playing a word game and you just tossed out that you wanted to have sex. With Dr. B. Am I getting this right?"

_He's having too much fun with this,_ Booth morosely thought, as he took another swig of his beer. Finally thumping the bottle on the bar, he glared over at Hodgins. "You can stop laughing, Jack."

"Oh, come on, man. This is the most excitement we've had since you started hallucinating," Hodgins retorted, giving Booth a dazzling grin. When the entomologist laughed, though, Booth just felt like punching him. There wasn't a damn thing funny about the situation.

Feeling a little disgusted, Booth grunted in Hodgins' direction and muttered, "You're no help. I should've known better than to come to a squint for advice."

"Come on, Booth, sit down." Laughing, Hodgins pushed the FBI agent back into his seat via a hand on his shoulder. Then purposefully breathing in and out a few times, he schooled his features and finally asked, "What can I do to help?"

"I don't really know what to do right now," Booth admitted, staring at the beer bottle he began to spin it with his fingers.

"Well, it sounds like you have two choices. Either have sex with her or not."

"For crying out loud," Booth exclaimed, and then looked around. Phew! No one seemed to have heard that, so he added, "Could you lower your voice a little?"

"Look, Booth, most people would kill for a chance to sleep with Dr. B," Hodgins explained, and then had the good graces to flush a little. Stammering, he continued, "I mean, not me. I wouldn't want to have sex with Dr. B. I mean, well, yeah, I would. But Angela would kill me. Oh hell, I'm going to just stop now."

Did he just say he wanted to have sex with Bones? "Yeah, Jack, you might want to stop," Booth stated with a glower.

"What I'm saying," Hodgins finally said, after a deep breath, "is that you need to think about it, but if I were given a chance to really _be_ with a woman that means as much to me as Dr. B means to you, then I'd be doing a happy dance."

Taking a last swig, Booth thumped the bottle back on the bar and sighed. Because Hodgins was right. He just had to figure out how to talk to her about it.

"Thanks, Jack," Booth muttered, sliding into his jacket, and heading out to hail a cab.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to talk to her. Preferably without choking on words or passing out from embarrassment. _Tomorrow,_ he thought. _Tomorrow, I'll find a way to talk to her._

It's not like she was going to show up on his doorstep or anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Surreality (Chapter 3)  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bones. For that matter, I don't own NCIS, CSI, Criminal Minds, or the London Tower, either.  
**Author's Note:** I want to thank everyone who left reviews on the last chapter.

**X X X**

The thing that irritated Booth more than anything was that not only did Cullen have his gun locked in a desk drawer; but sitting right along side it was his wallet. Without a license (and thus a vehicle), the morose FBI agent had traversed the rush hour crush of the Metro to get home. That wouldn't be too bad, except that by the time he'd gotten off at his stop, the dull throb in his head had lashed out into a stabbing pain.

Shoving his key into the door, Booth frowned, feeling fatigue seep in like a drug. The doctors had anticipated the headaches, giving him pain killers to help. At least they hit less and less frequently now. A month and a half after the surgery, he was down to only a couple a week. Flinging the door open, he grabbed the prescription bottle out of his pocket, while sloughing off his jacket and dropping it on the floor. He needed a pill, a sip of water (because he admitted from day one he wasn't a tough-guy in the movies that could dry swallow a bitter pill), and sleep.

Every limb weighed a ton and the simple act of opening the pill bottle turned into an aching frustration.

"Damn it," he muttered, finally trudging to the living room and dropping like dead weight onto the couch. "I need Parker to open this thing."

"Not a good idea, Booth," Bones said from behind him, making him jolt and fall off the couch.

"How did you get in this time?" he asked, incredulously.

"First off, I have a key," she replied, watching him intently. "I needed to get in and out of here while you were in the hospital so I copied your key. And second… Parker is a child. He shouldn't be opening bottles of narcotics."

Bristling, he muttered, "I was being sarcastic, Bones. It's a child proof bottle. I need a child to open it. Get it?"

"I don't understand," she replied, moving around the couch to sit next to him. Reaching over, she laid her hand over his and pulled the bottle from his grasp. "Let me."

It only irritated him that she popped the prescription bottle open so easily and tipped out a single pill. No sooner had the pain killer been dropped in his hand than she magically disappeared and reappeared in seconds with a glass of water.

"Why are you here?" he asked after downing his pill.

"I wanted to talk to you about what you said in Dr. Sweets' office today," she earnestly replied. Unfortunately, he didn't. His head hurt, making every part of him ache in concert with the stabbing throbs that coursed over the top and back of his skull.

"Can we talk tomorrow?" he asked, wincing as even his own voice turned into an irritant.

When she scooted into the corner, and patted her lap, he could only stare. What on Earth was she doing? Then she smiled and said, "Lay down. Let me help."

Slowly unbending his limbs, he stretched across his couch, until his head settled in her lap and he stared up into those beautiful hazel eyes. Then her hand was in his hair, stroking his scalp. Each movement eased the tension, like a caress, and his eyes drifted closed. Over and over she rubbed across the scars, tenderly touching them through his very short hair.

She'd done the same in the hospital. The variation came when her hands began to stroke down his neck, easing the tight muscles, and then down to his shoulders. She calmed him so easily…

As he drifted into blissful oblivion, he felt her lips on his forehead. Then his cheeks. The last sensation he felt before falling under the weight of the pain killer was the taste of her lips on his.

**X X X**

It must have been a dream.

Waking up to find himself alone on the couch, Booth wondered if somehow, through the pain, he'd woven a fantasy to conjure up Bones cradling him. Stretching from his sleep, he craned his neck, noted the lack of knots in the muscles, and sauntered into the kitchen.

Yeah, it must have been a fantasy, he decided. Or he was just the biggest idiot in the world, letting a woman kiss him and then leave.

_We're talking about Bones,_ he mused. With the rich aroma of coffee wafting through the kitchen, he grabbed some cereal, drowned it in milk, and hunkered down for a meal.

"That stuff's full of sugar," Bones said, making him jump.

"You have got to stop doing that," he muttered, picking his bowl off the floor and grabbing a towel. "When did you get here?"

Then he glanced up and caught sight of the tousled hair, sleep-glazed eyes, and one of his t-shirts hanging past the middle of her thighs. And swallowed. Hard. Sure, she'd slept over a few times since he had been released from the hospital. Those times, she'd been well prepared and wore pajamas and a robe. Certainly not an old t-shirt.

"Are you okay, Booth?" she asked, concern leaking into her voice.

"Uh. Yeah. Fine," he nearly stuttered. "I'm fine."

Swallowing hard, he dropped the bowl on the table and stared at the table. When she stepped closer and he caught a glimpse of her sleek calf, he clamped his eyelids down and mentally chanted, _Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._ Then, _Stop looking. Stop looking. Stop looking._

"Booth? Are you okay?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm, rubbing her thumb in circles on his bicep. The calming action turned out to be more than he could handle. As he stalked to his bedroom to change, he heard her ask, "Was it something I said?"

That was the last straw.

Turning on his heels, he stalked back to the kitchen. His voice pitched higher than normal when he began his rant. "Are you kidding? You're standing there, _knowing_ that I want to… you know…"

"Have sex?" she supplied. Why did she look so bemused?

"Yeah," he confirmed. "And you're standing there wearing my old Quantico training t-shirt." Which he had to admit looked better on her than it ever had him. Opening his mouth to speak again, Booth felt the adrenaline drain from his system and snapped his lips shut.

"Are you done?" Bones asked, earning a nod from the FBI agent.

"I came over yesterday afternoon to speak with you and you were not home, so I waited. I was actually going to leave when you arrived in obvious pain," she explained. "I didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone, so I spent the night. And I'm wearing your t-shirt because I did not relish sleeping in my clothes."

Feeling a little like a heel, he said, "Oh, well… that makes sense."

"Of course, if you find my form appealing, perhaps now would be a good time to have intercourse," she added, making Booth cringe once again.

"Do you have to put it that way?" he retorted in response.

"Well, that's what you've been fantasizing, isn't it?" Bones asked, stepping close to him. Oh boy, whatever perfume she was wearing smelled fantastic. Plus, the hands slowly creeping up his chest had his heart hammering. Yeah, this had been a bit of a fantasy of his – him aroused, her tousled and sexy.

When he felt her lean into him and kiss his cheek, Booth closed his eyes on a sigh and slowly stepped away. This wasn't what he wanted. Not like this. He'd never seduced a best friend before and didn't know precisely how to go about doing it, but not like this. He – she- _they_ deserved candlelight and romance. After everything they'd gone through, they deserved more than a one night stand.

"I thought this was what you wanted," Bones asked, backing away from him.

The look of rejection on her face almost made his mind up for him, but he wouldn't go about it this way. If they were going to start something, then they'd do it the right way. Without a second thought, he pulled her to him and into a tight hug.

"I think I want more than just sex," he said.

"I don't understand," she murmured into his shirt, making him smile.

"I want to go out on a date."

He looked down as her head tilted up. The look on her face when she had a puzzle running through her mind always amused him, baffled him, or irritated him. Now he needed to add 'aroused' to the list. Because she did just that.

"Are you saying you want to woo me?" she asked, as if requiring clarification. Almost like this was scientific research and she needed more data.

"I guess you can call it that," he replied. "In fact, I'd like to take you out tonight if you're free."

Since she'd cancelled anything and everything on her schedule when he went into the hospital, she had plenty of time on her calendar. Even her publisher was leaving her alone. "All right. Tonight."

For a moment, they stood in the middle of his kitchen, arms wrapped around each other, until she said, "I need to get dressed and go to work."

Recognizing the professional tone in her voice, Booth knew the moment had ended. All too soon, in his opinion. Rather than trying to hold onto a woman who had already moved onto the rest of her day, he simply dipped his head, whispered, "Think about this while you're at work," and kissed her.

By the time they separated, he'd tasted, caressed, and stroked every part of her mouth, and left her as breathless as he.

Oh yeah, he was The Man.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Surreality (Chapter 4)  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Rating:** Teen, leaning heavily toward Mature  
**Beta:** Many, many, many thanks to SeattleCSIFan for her help.  
**Disclaimer:** If you didn't get it from the other chapters, I don't own Bones. I wouldn't know what to do with the show if I did. Sure, I'd know what to do with Booth, but what warm-blooded woman wouldn't?  
**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay in this chapter. Real life sucked up a great deal of my time this week, so I didn't have much time.

**X X X**

"He wants to go out on a date?" Angela asked, her voice infused with mingling laughter and joy. "As in a 'date' date?"

"Yes, a 'date' date," Bones replied, picking up a phalanges and measuring its distended length. Marking some notations in her log, she stood and stretched her back muscles. With the hands done, the feet were next. Through years of study and experimentation, she had long ago deduced working from the extremities inward provided a more accurate and overall assessment of a fully-formed skeletal figure.

"I need _details_," Angela stated, her tone serious. "When did he ask you? What did he say?"

Blowing out a long-suffering breath, Bones approached the feet and stated, "This morning over breakfast." Picking up her clipboard, she marked the curling of the toes in the log and bent at the knees to look at them from the level of the table.

"You know what, Brennan? You really need to learn how to act more like a girl," Angela stated, rather loudly.

"Well, that's a professional statement if I ever heard one," Cam sardonically stated, walking up the ramp. Looking at Angela, the head of the lab asked, "Just out of curiosity, why do we think Dr. Brennan needs to act like girl?"

"Because Booth is taking her on a date," Angela answered in hopes that Cam would understand the magnitude.

"Seeley asked you out?" Cam asked, giving Bones a wry smile. "This ought to be interesting."

"It is just a dinner," Bones replied, not getting why it would be a big deal. After all, she and Booth often ate together. In fact, a great deal of time outside of the office was spent partaking in Thai or Chinese food. And it fascinated her on some level that they could so easily slip into conversation regardless of the differences – her high intellect and his street smarts. Topics ranged from the current case to personal topics, such as family.

"Brennan!" Angela yelled, yanking Bones back to reality. "I was asking, do you know where you're going to dinner?"

Furrowing her brow, she filtered back through the morning and answered, "No, I don't." More lightly she added, "Probably Sid's. Booth loves Sid's."

**X X X**

"That's right, Sweets," Booth stated, schooling his features to intimidate the young psychologist. "I want my badge back. If I have to go through you to get it, I will. I'm sick of waiting."

"Of course you do, Agent Booth," Sweet replied, smiling. "That's why I'm working with you."

The psychologist stood several feet away from Booth, who occupied the door frame. Slowly, yet purposefully, stepping toward Sweets, he watched as the young man's smile slowly began to drop and his cheeks became ruddier, making Sweets look younger by the second. By the time Booth stood half a foot away, Sweets' eyes had popped open wide and wary, and the mouth formed a straight line.

"I don't think you get it," Booth quietly stated. "I want them back. Now."

For a moment Booth stared at Sweets and found it amusing that the younger man actually pulled his shoulders back and stood straighter in the process. Why hadn't he really paid attention before? Then again, he'd let a lot of things slip past him before the brain tumor. Things he didn't want to let slip away again. Like his appreciation of people – his brother, Cam, the squints, and Bones. Especially Bones. Dr. Brennan. Temperance.

When Sweets loudly cleared his throat, Booth squinted his eyes and glared. It irked him a little that he even appreciated the annoying man in front of him – even when Sweets acted like a bratty kid that wanted to be in charge.

"Maybe I can let you back in on some limited field work," Sweets relented.

_Heh. I've still got the touch. I can still intimidate,_ Booth thought, quirking a brow. He didn't want limited anything. Full credentials were his goal.

Eventually, Sweets dropped his eyes and muttered, "Fine. Full time back on the job."

Score!

As Booth grinned and began to walk out, good old Sweets was back in full form. The young psychologist yelled after Booth's departing form, "But I want you here every day until I'm more comfortable with this!"

Every day? Shrugging to himself, Booth headed to Cullen's office. He could handle it for awhile. If it became too much of an annoyance, he'd just set it up with Bones to give him an 'emergency' call. He'd been having Cullen's assistant do it for over a year. Really, how often did Sweets think he had a fresh dead body on his hands?

Whistling lightly, Booth felt like skipping as he headed down the halls of the Hoover building.

**X X X**

Standing on the platform, Bones continued to examine the remains, taking her typically detailed notes. Even after years of working on skeletal remains, she found enthusiasm in solving the puzzle of the deceased's life. Yet she could also admit that sometimes the tedium could begin to wear on her. Compared to working a case with Booth, the study of Limbo remains could be a little boring.

So her stomach fluttered in anticipation when Booth sauntered in, smiling from ear to ear, and announced – no, yelled – "Bones! Gear up! We've got a body!"

**X X X**

The next morning, Bones stood over the cleaned skeletal remains of a young woman, with Mr. Nigel-Murray standing at her side. It hadn't been hard to discover the cuts in the ribs, which matched up with the kitchen knife discarded next to the body. By eleven o'clock last night, they'd had the victim's ex-boyfriend in interrogation.

Sweets had stood next to her in the observation room, sneaking glances throughout the entire interview. Finally, she'd gotten annoyed enough to look him in the eye and ask in an exasperated voice, "What?!?"

He'd smiled and asked, "What are you feeling? This instant, what are you feeling with Agent Booth in the room where he experienced hallucinations? The room he was last in before going to the hospital?"

Frowning she had looked the psychologist in the eyes and said, "Just because he had hallucinations that led to his diagnosis does not mean I attach any significance to the room." Hell would've frozen over before she'd told him that she'd had a stomach ache or that her breath had felt trapped in her lungs while she'd watched. When she glanced over, Sweets had been watching as the man in custody confessed. She must not have given him what he wanted to hear, because Sweets hadn't been smiling anymore.

Tired, and feeling good about it, Bones looked at Mr. Nigel-Murray and said, "The mortuary will be here to pick up the remains in a few hours. Please prepare the remains."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan," he replied in his typically clipped British accent as she headed toward her office. All she had to do was prepare the file and she could go home for some rest.

It wasn't to be, though. No sooner did she walk into her office and roll her chair up to her computer, than Angela swooped in and stood over her.

"Can I do something for you?"

Sympathy oozed from Angela, when she said, "It's terrible you and Booth didn't have time alone last night."

_Sure we did. We solved a murder,_ Bones mused. Yet she wasn't so obtuse that she didn't pick up on Angela's meaning. Her friend just didn't get it. She just enjoyed spending time with her partner. It never really mattered if it was debating the merits of Catholicism (or God for that matter) over a meal or doing it over a dead body.

"Well, Sweetie, maybe you can try again tonight," Angela stated.

"We'll see," Bones quietly replied. Boy, she really was tired. A nice soak in the tub would feel wonderful on her sore back and feet. Then her bed. Signing off on a couple of forms, she rose and dropped the file in her 'Out' box. Glancing up, she noted her friend hadn't yet left. "Can you tell Cam I'm going home?"

It was nine o'clock in the morning. She'd put in twenty four hours, and the exhaustion that seeped through her felt wonderful. It had been worth the time and work just to see the cocky look of success on Booth's face when he'd nailed the victim's ex. He was back.

**X X X**

It hadn't occurred to Booth until two-thirty in the morning that he and Bones were supposed to be going to dinner. By six he'd gained a confession. At seven o'clock, she'd headed back to her office to finish the paperwork on the body, while he finished his on the confession.

So he'd done the only thing he could to make it up to her. Standing over the stove, he flipped the sautéed vegetables in the pan and glanced once more at the clock. Ten o'clock. Surely she was headed home by now. Every time he picked up the phone to call and tell her she worked to hard, he chastised himself. Hadn't she put just as much energy into getting him better?

In mid-yawn, he heard the snick of her lock and the front door opened wide. With a glass of orange juice in-hand, he sauntered out to greet her, only to get a scowl when she asked, "How did you get in?"

Smirking, he responded, "I'm FBI. I know things."

Extending his hand, Booth waited for her to take the orange juice, sniff it suspiciously, and take a tentative sip. Then he said, "I'm making you something to eat. Actually, it's for both of us."

"You're making me breakfast?" she asked, curiosity woven into her question. When she sniffed appreciatively at the scents and wandered toward the kitchen, he followed and waited. Bones didn't disappoint, when she sighed, smiled, and said, "It smells good."

From behind, Booth reached out and gently took the orange juice from her hand and set it on the counter. Pushing past the discomfort of the intimacy (and fear that Bones might actually hit him), he slowly turned her by the shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he waited for her head to tilt up at him and he said, "We missed dinner out, so I thought I would make you dinner in."

For the longest time, she simply stared, making him feel like a specimen in a jar. Something being studied. Then her voice lowered and she quietly replied, "Thank you."

No questions. No arguments. No 'I'm not hungry'. Just thank you. How could he not be proud of that?

Of course, then she asked, "Would you like to kiss me?"

As his heart stuttered, she continued, "That's the eventual goal, after all. Woo me and then sleep with me."

So much for her progress in social skills. But then again (and he would deny it until the day he died), it was part of the charm he appreciated in her – always up-front, honest to a fault, and vocal.

"I didn't make you something to eat to get you into bed," he calmly replied, although his voice may have risen an octave. It took a lot of work to stay level and calm when dealing with her sometimes. She really knew which buttons would make him cringe, blush, and outright want to sink into the ground.

"That's good," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "I'd sleep with you anyway."

As images of Bones – naked and panting under him (and boy were the pictures in his head vivid, thanks to his experience under the knife) – he idly wondered what she would do if _he_ started panting. Probably splash a little cold water by stating something about his symmetrical physiology. She didn't, though. Instead, she nearly had him drooling.

He had to thank Angela at some point, because she must've taught Bones the phrase.

"I find you… smoking hot."


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Surreality (Chapter 5)  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Rating:** M (for mature – sexual content involved)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bones. Someone with more money and power does. I'm just playing with the characters for fun.  
**Beta:** I would like to especially thank **SeattleCSIFan** for reading, re-reading, re-re-reading, etc. ad I rewrote this chapter a gazillion times.  
**Author's Note:** If they're a little out of character, I apologize. They're more in character than the first 3 drafts. I hope you enjoy.

**X X X**

She'd called him 'smoking hot'.

"You know, Bones…" Booth said, unsure of what to say. He really didn't want to hurt her feelings, but…

"I know," she responded with a sigh and sly grin. "That didn't sound right, did it?"

"No," he concurred, relief washing through him. Her proposal for testing their physical compatibility had seemed natural (in a weird kind of way). Sure, he might stammer and stutter over comments like that, but it was _Bones_ talking to him. He'd kind of gotten to

_like_ her blunt statements.

"You have to stop listening to Angela," he said, grinning.

"You mean I don't have to act more like a girl?" Bones asked. At his puzzled look, she explained, "Angela told me earlier that I needed to act more like a girl. She might have been talking about my unwillingness to discuss details, but I believe there was more to it. I believe it was for _your_ benefit that she made the suggestion."

Would it be bad if his eyes rolled back in his head? Booth was fairly certain that would happen if Bones were any more feminine. Besides, those sometimes hard edges, cloaked in confusion, often softened his own ragged angles. It made their partnership – their friendship – work.

"Either way, we're getting off track," Bones stated, stepping close enough to force him to look down to see her face. "I think that if we are going to establish a romantic, non-platonic relationship, we should test our physical compatibility."

Yep, she wanted to have sex. Wow did the anticipation show in her eyes. And her lips looked a little fuller, particularly when she licked them.

Boy, oh boy was he confused. And aroused.

What did a man say to something like this? _Sure, Bones. Let me jump you because I've been having trouble with this constant hard-on around you, and I hear having an erection for over four hours in a shot is a bad thing. _The floor would probably open up, a demonic entity would pop out, and he'd be dragged straight to hell.

He had to say something. Considering, she'd sucked her lower lip between her teeth and was gnawing on it while staring, he'd better make it intelligent; because he hated it when he said something stupid and made uncertainty shadow her face.

"Sex would be good," he blurted, when she stepped back oh-so-slightly. Oh yeah. _That_ was intelligent. Clearing his throat, he voice broke like a fourteen year old boy when he said, "I mean, yeah. We could try testing out our physical compatibility."

Bones nodded, her eyes misting. Well damn it, he'd made her cry. Sometimes he felt like a clumsy oaf. This happened to be one of those times.

_Say something, _he chastised himself.

"I took a bullet for you," he said, relieved when she frowned at him and stepped forward – just the reaction he was looking for. At least her eyes weren't watering anymore.

"Once. And that only goes so far," she murmured, pressing herself lightly against him.

"I'm kind of confused," he said. "A lot of things confuse me, and this desire to see you…"

"Naked?"

"Yeah. That," he said, feeling his cheeks turn pink yet again. "I can honestly say you're a friend. My best friend. I just hadn't…"

"Thought about having mind-blowing, passionate sex?"

Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Yeah. That."

"Let me help," she stated, tilting her head up and capturing his lips. Oh yeah, there was that spicy flavor he wanted. How can a woman who hates cooked fruit taste like pure woman with a layer of apple pie over the top? Then her tongue swept in and he could barely think at all.

"Come with me," she murmured, taking his hand and leading him down the hall.

Dazedly, he followed her into her bedroom and watched as she peeled off her shirt, followed by shoes and then pants. All very slowly. Not seductively, but carefully – like she approached everything – cloth skimmed over and off of her until she stood before him in panties and a bra.

He only hoped his eyes didn't roll back in his head. Passing out would not make the best impression.

"Booth, you aren't undressing," she said. Well, duh, he was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.

He was drooling again, damn it all.

Wiping his hand across his mouth and feeling a bit like a begging Neanderthal puppy, he slowly approached and waited right in front of her. When he'd started the conversation, this wasn't quite what he'd anticipated, but… he acted before he allowed himself to really think.

Wrapping his hands in her long, auburn hair, he dipped his head and kissed her hard, accepting the invitation of her ready mouth and open lips. It certainly wasn't easy – nothing about her was ever _easy_. But damn it, she tasted like apple pie.

What man could turn down apple pie?

Then her hands were all over him and his shirt was out of his pants, the tails hanging down as she worked at the buttons. All he could do was gulp hard and pray he didn't look like a gaping fish.

"A little help would be good," she stated, methodically releasing each little disk from its corresponding hole. Then she shrugged and said, "Or I can get this off of you."

Like he had a choice. Sure, he'd voluntarily followed. It was just that his limbs felt frozen in place, and his cheeks were undoubtedly burned a permanent deep red.

_Huh. I can still move after all,_ he thought, as he wriggled his arms and let the shirt fall to the ground.

Her nails raked over his chest while pulling and tugging his undershirt over his head, disorienting him for just a moment. Long enough for her to lay her hand on his belt.

_Why is she laughing?_ He wondered, and then glanced down. _Okay, that is kind of funny._

She was tracing the word 'Cocky' on his buckle. Boy oh boy did that alone describe his current condition. Then he groaned when she stroked him through his slacks. He wished she would never stop, but if she continued he'd be done before he ever started.

He'd be fifteen behind the bleachers again, and never hear the end of it.

Grabbing her wrist, he paused her squeezing caress and moaned, "Not yet."

Lord, she really could be cruel. She laughed, deep and throaty.

Shivers of anticipation coursed through him and he unclasped his belt with shaking hands, unzipped his slacks, and dropped them to pool at his feet. Unfortunately, as he kicked his shoes away, everything tangled at his feet, pulling tight.

"Damn it," he grunted before slamming to the ground. That was going to leave a mark.

"Here," she said, extending her hand.

Gaining his feet, he stood there, staring stupidly, feeling naked in only cotton briefs. He probably looked like a poster boy for tidy whities.

The way she studied him should have made him feel like she had when she'd stormed his bathroom the night of his fake funeral. On the one hand, it had surprised him that he hadn't sprang to attention, because… well… she was a woman. Sometimes a man just couldn't help what his anatomy did in the presence of a beautiful woman, even if it was his partner.

His partner who was… gone?

Suddenly realizing he'd been lost in his own world, he twirled around, only to find her sitting on the edge of the bed behind him. How had she gotten all the way over there?

Kicking his shoes and pants out of the way, he sat on the bed next to her and stiffly extended his arm around her shoulders. Clearing his throat in the awkward silence, both of them perched on the very edge of the bed, Booth finally asked, "Uh, Bones, you okay?"

Silence met him and he peeked down at her face, only to find her idly chewing her lip. Apparently, he wasn't the only one nervous about this. The look of confidence on her face had been replaced by one of consternation.

She really spent too much time thinking, he decided and nudged her.

"If you don't want to do this, I understand," he quietly said. After all, he wasn't totally convinced this was the best idea, either.

His gut held him silent. After all the time they'd spent as partners, he'd learned to work on 'Bones Time'; the time it took for her to pull what she felt into words, often enough struggling to find the most appropriate ones. When she shifted to face him, he watched her face.

Crisply, she stated, "You are very important to me. _Very_."

And there it was. The hardest words for her to say to another human being.

With a sharp nod, he gulped hard, feeling his Adams apple bob. That kind of admission meant more to him than anything else she could've said.

With one arm draped around her shoulders, he used the other to pull her close, until he softly laid his lips over hers. This kiss wasn't fiery, hungry, or full of desire. Instead it was the best kiss of his life.

Memories made up the slow burning heat, and friendship led the exploration as the last scraps of clothing disappeared. Gently, together, they stroked and nibbled, tasting and touching – giving and receiving. Instead of flames licking at the skin, a calm settled down like a warm blanket, stoking coals to a constant burn. Something sustainable.

Slowly they settled back on the bed, running palms and fingers over exposed skin. In the midst, he discovered he loved the feel of her fingers in his hair as he slid down her to taste one beckoning peak. The whimpering gasps spurred him on as he licked and lathed until the nubs had turned hard enough to make her writhe at his mere breath over them.

Then the hand in his hair tugged him up, until he covered her. The same eyes he'd looked into thousands of times before stared into his. The only difference was that this time, the moisture in them wasn't from fear, anger, or hurt, but smoldering passion simmering near the boiling point.

Then came the hunger. As he shifted higher, nudging her entrance with his shaft, her eyes fluttered closed and she arched.

He thought it would kill him – that slow slide into her.

Finally fully sheathed, he held until she opened her eyes and looked into his questioningly. In answer, he kissed her forehead, and then each cheek, feeling her quiver around him. Biting back the groan, he stared again, and said, "So far, would you say the experiment is a success?"

Her gasp made him chuckle; and then moan when she writhed. That spelled the breaking point of his control. Every stroke into the wet heat pushed him higher, as did the feel of her nails against his skin and the rise of her hips to meet his thrusts. Again and again, he sought her mouth, wanting to taste that spicy sweetness, and let it mingle with the musky scent of sex that filled the room.

"So good," he murmured, running his hand between their bodies to caress at the apex of her thighs, fingering the moisture while he licked at her neck. Her gasps turned to moans as he found the sweet nub between their bodies and stroked.

Then her nails bit into his back and she began to gasp short hard breaths as her walls squeezed hard. As she arched and panted, he thrust into her hard repeatedly, until she groaned out his name. Not 'Booth'.

"Seeley," she gasped hard, making something in him flare alive as he pumped into her again and again, feeling her walls spasm.

Every nerve burst like a sun, he saw pure white, and pleasure shook him to his toes… emptying himself into her on a long moan.

Finally dropping down on top of her, he vaguely gave a thought to not smothering her to death and shifted to one side – loathe to break that primal connection between them. It was so good to feel her slick skin against his. Pulling her tight, he felt her breath on his chest – hard and rapid. Matching his own.

With thudding hearts, they held each other, until the hammering slowed, and breathing evened. In the soft glow of the lamp, he finally opened his shuttered eyes and looked into hers.

She studied him again, and he felt his nerves jangle in anxiety. What was she thinking? He didn't have to ask.

Her face was a study of professionalism and she might have well been talking about a chemistry experiment when she proclaimed, "I think the experiment can be declared a success."

"Geez, Bones," Booth muttered, wondering why his cheeks would choose that moment to flush in embarrassment. For crying out loud, going soft or not, he was still sheathed inside of her, skin to skin.

When she grinned, he couldn't help but smile in return.

"I dunno, Bones," he murmured, snuggling close and pulling her to rest atop him. Tilting his head up, he gave her a peck on her lips and admired the sated eyes. "I think maybe we should try it again. You know… make sure we didn't mess it up?"

Her face a study of professional curiosity, she replied, "I concur. Repeatability of an outcome is vital for an experiment to be declared a success."

Bones had everyone fooled, he thought. She had everyone convinced she was terrible with people. If she was so bad, then she wouldn't be looking so damn coy right now. When Booth snorted a laugh, she asked, "What's so funny?"

Grinning, he replied, "Oh, nothing."

She squirmed on top of him. Booth felt himself stiffen inside of her and groaned. Oh yeah… Bones knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

Two hours later, Dr. Temperance Brennan loudly declared a zero-percent failure rate.

**The End**


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